


A few minutes more

by neela



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Bittersweet, Community: apocalypse_kree, F/M, Science Fiction, Tragic Romance, Ultimate Sacrifice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-20 22:05:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9518087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neela/pseuds/neela
Summary: No calls in, no calls out.Written for apocalypse_kree 2016.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the Stargate characters or the universe. It belongs to MGM and the Sci-Fi channel.
> 
> Prompt: (271, Rare pairings & friendships) Sam/John. Two broken souls and a grief that can’t be spoken. They knew this was it; that the end of the line lies in a blaze of glory and at least three destroyed solar systems. They know and yet here they are, hoping they’ll have just a few minutes more.

   
They watched the stargate connection close down. A snap of energy and it was gone. Sam spared the action only a cursory look before she sighed and looked down at her display. With the touch of a button, the whole system was locked out. No calls in, no calls out.  
  
Funny how that didn’t panic her. Not anymore, at least. There had been so many iterations of this situation in her life, so many solutions-pulled-out-of-their-asses or lucky breaks that’d gotten them through to the next day, and the day after, and the day after that. Perhaps it was a sign that she was finally tired of that.  
  
She was certainly tired of  _something_. Death. Despair. Hatred. Rage. Grief. Earlier in her life, these had been portioned out, made manageable, but the last six months hadn’t been that kind. One by one, she’d watched their ships go out and not return. One by one, she’d watched her friends leave and not return. No bodies to bury. No memorial to visit. The Shadows had taken them all, twisted them, fed on them, sent them back to haunt them as morbid creatures of the night.  
  
Sam hated biological warfare.  
  
“Hey.”  
  
John’s voice drew her out of her thoughts. She glanced at him, both surprised and not to see that her vision was blurred, turning John into a kaleidoscope of colours and odd shapes. She blinked her eyes, wiped the tears away, and faced him once more.  
  
Like hers, John’s face was drawn, pale, lined with too many horrors. He carried himself like a wary animal, his shoulders both tense and slumped, his steps cautious. Even his hair had begun to grey prematurely, lifeless and flat instead of its usual gravity-defying vigour.  
  
But his touch was still comforting, still warm; a safe harbour in the storm. “You ready?”  
  
Sam sighed and nodded. On the display below her, a meter was steadily rising toward the the dark green levels. Just a few more hundredths of a second. It was time.  
  
They worked in tandem as they’d learned to do in the past six months. Working in silence. Doing calculations. Igniting the bait. Then waiting, sitting shoulder to shoulder on the floor, staring at the wall-mounted display and the red triangles hurrying their way.  
  
Eventually, John sighed. Wordlessly, he rose to his feet, went to a different display, connected a device to it, then stood back to listen.  
  
Sam smiled as the Johnny Cash/Bob Dylan song filtered through the city-wide speakers. Her smile widened when John turned to her with a smirk of his own, then a proffered hand. Taking it, she let herself be pulled to her feet and twirled slowly into his embrace.  
  
“I remember this one,” she whispered into his ear after his arms had settled around her waist and hers were wrapped around his neck. Dylan’s soft treble and Cash’s deep bass filtered through her ears and travelled down to her legs, stirring them into motion.  
  
“Me too.”  
  
There was a slight tremble in John’s voice. Sam’s grip tightened, her own throat suddenly thick. She buried her face into his neck, pressed her body against his like she’d done so many times before. Seeking his warmth, his comfort. Returning the favour. Choking back a sob when John’s arms hugged her forcefully.  
  
That’d been the night everything had begun. This, them, the world ending. It seemed fitting that this should be how it ended. The two of them together, saving what’s left of the world.  
  
After this, neither of them spoke. They simply rotated to the music, slowly, firmly,  _there_  in the moment. Easing the sorrow. Rebuilding confidence. Mourning the losses. No thoughts of tomorrow, just of today. Sharing a kiss as the song came to an end. Gently at first, then deeply, desperately. Stealing their breaths away. Wishing it wouldn’t end. That they’d have just a few minutes more.  
  
An insistent beep in the silence stopped them. Made them pull back, gaze at each other, tighten their grips. No more kisses. No more tears.  
  
Taking a deep breath, they let go and went over to the control consoles. Neither needed to cast a glance at the wall-mounted screen to know the Shadow fleet had arrived. The thuds on the Atlantis’ shields were enough proof of that.  
  
Sam spared the motion only half a mind, her focus narrowed to the displays in front of her: to the meter that’d crossed into red levels rather than green and the screen illustrating the giant sun beneath Atlantis’ orbit.  
  
“Ready?”  
  
John’s voice was quiet, yet firm. She glanced back to where he sat in the control chair, her vision sharp and clear. No more hesitance, no more despair. This was them fighting back, levelling the playing field.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
She pushed a button. John’s head leaned back, eyes closed. She felt the sudden jerk as the stardrives powered up. She stared at the displays, at the countdown. Compensated for a couple of burst power relays. Activated the redundancies. Kept the Wormhole Drive active. Held on as the world shifted around her.  
  
Then they were no longer outside the sun, but within, and the meter reached its zenith in the red levels, and the hundredths of a second rushed through the countdown.  
  
Sam closed her eyes. Remembered John’s touch. Remembered the song. Then remembered nothing.  
  
**FIN**


End file.
